Silent Hetalia: Americana
by kiriutar
Summary: Arthur is determined to save his adopted son, Alfred, from the hellish nightmares that plague him of a place called "Silent Hill." Upon their arrival to the town, Arthur learns the truth behind the birth of his little boy. Rated for horror, gore.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur leaned against the doorframe looking into the bedroom. His arms were crossed tight across his chest, pinning the medallion of Saint George against his sternum in a vaguely uncomfortable way. A gift from his son, it hung heavy around his neck as he watched the boy sleep.

Alfred was curled tight under his striped and star-strewn blankets. His long, blond lashes fluttered lightly over plump cheeks. He was dreaming; Arthur was sure. He prayed that Alfred only dreamt tonight.

Arthur turned from the room, closing the door after himself and starting down the stairwell. In the light at the bottom, a friend stood, looking up at him. Arthur descended the last of the stairs. They stood there, not looking at each other, until Arthur stepped into the lit kitchen. He fumbled through the cabinet under the stove for a clean tea kettle.

"You said the medicine wasn't helping?"

Arthur shook his head, "Not in the slightest. I keep thinking maybe it's my fault he's getting worse - my insistence on finding him help is putting more stress on him." He filled the kettle and set it to boil on the stove. "I'm running out of options, Antonio. The doctors don't know what to do - I don't know -" He cut himself off, leaning over the stove.

Antonio took a seat on the opposite side of the island, leaning his elbows on the cool laminate. He watched his friend compose himself before he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe it would be best for the boy if you put him into a hospital."

Arthur's expression darkened: "I'm not sure I could stand doing that. Not when he's so fragile already."

"…Perhaps it's something he inherited from his parents? What did the orphanage say? You did call them, si?"

"They didn't tell me shit about his parents. Left on their doorstep as an infant - from West Virginia - the nun who answered kept quoting to me their policy on not revealing the identities of those leaving their children for adoption." Arthur scowled at the kettle that refused to boil. His gaze was hot enough, but the water refused to roll.

Antonio sighed quietly through his nose, "And they won't budge, even if it would be for his well-being."

"…I'm thinking of taking him there. The place he keeps talking about in his sleep."

"That isn't a good idea, amigo," Antonio said. "You've told me about that town, what you found of it on the internet. The underground fires are bad enough, but all those people who've gone missing over the years trying to find it?"

"I've nowhere else to turn, Toni. I have to try," Arthur said. He pulled the kettle off of the stove, giving up on making tea.

"…Arthur, I really think you should reconsider -"

"You would do the same thing for your boys, Antonio. If Lovino and Feliciano were sick, you'd do anything to help them. Don't deny it!"

"Arthur, I'm not saying I wouldn't do whatever I could in your place, but even so, going there is not in Alfred's best interest." Antonio reached for the hands of his friend.

Both men were startled from their conversation by a loud crash from upstairs.

"Alfred!"

They shot from the kitchen, bolting up the stairs as fast as their legs could carry them. Arthur ripped open the door to his son's bedroom. The room was empty.

"ALFRED!"

They ran from the house, screaming for the little boy who unknowingly was sleepwalking in the direction of Silent Hill.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred looked up from his comic book and smiled. "Wanna see?"

"Sure, luvvy." Arthur sat down under the tree beside his little boy. "Oh, wow. That looks cool. What's this one about, Al?"

The chubby little blond grinned, "Captain America's fighting Red Skull, again. But he's been hurt by a sniper."

"Oh, no!" Arthur chuckled. "He's going to make it through, though, isn't he?"

"Yep! A'course he is! He's Captain America," the boy beamed.

Arthur smiled down at his son, pulling him into his lap. He held Alfred close while he read his story.

"…Alfred, you know we're going on a special trip, right?"

The boy nodded absently.

"Do you know where we're going?" Arthur paused, and Alfred didn't respond. "Luvvy, sometimes, when you sleep, you go for a little walk. And when you do, you mention a place called Silent Hill."

Alfred looked up, frowning, and said, "I don't remember."

Arthur hugged the boy closer to his body. "That's okay, baby. That's why we're going to go there - to help you remember."

Beside the pair, a cell phone rang. Arthur picked up his phone and looked at the number. He glared at it. He turned the ringer off and set the phone back into the day pack, brows knit.

Alfred nuzzled under Arthur's chin. "Who was that, Dad?"

Arthur rubbed the little boy's shoulder, holding him to his chest, "Just Mr. Antonio."

"Is he coming with us? And Lovi and Feli?"

"No, baby," Arthur said. "It's just going to be you and me."

Alfred smiled tiredly and rested his head fully against his father's chest, closing his eyes. Arthur allowed himself to doze, enjoying the sunshine of the late afternoon and the warm, comfortable weight of his son in his arms. A quarter of an hour passed in such a manner, until the blare of an eighteen-wheeler roused Arthur from his nap. He blinked and looked around. He looked down at the boy still asleep on his chest.

"Hey." Arthur twitched his shoulder gently under his son's head. "Hey."

Alfred sat up sharply, fists going to his eyes in a brief fight for sleep.

"Break's over, baby."

The boy sagged down, rubbing at his cheeks and eyes. He blinked at his father.

"You awake?"

Alfred nodded, still sleepy despite the sudden awakening. Both father and son stood, collected their things, and got back into the jeep waiting for them beside the road.

* * *

><p>Antonio paced his living room, his brows furrowed and a cordless phone shoved into his ear. When the call on the line went to voicemail, he swore and dialed again.<p>

"Come on, Arthur! Where are you?"

Twin boys knelt in the stairwell, looking concerned, the younger of the two with tears rolling down his cheeks. Feliciano sniffled quietly and turned his face into the shoulder of his big brother. Lovino hugged his brother, expression worried and angry. Why wouldn't Al have told them about missing school? It was unfair that Al got to go off on an adventure, while he and Feli had to suffer through math and English.

Their father turned to look at the boys and shut off the phone. He walked over and put his hands through the rungs of the banister, touching the knees of the two small boys. "Do either of you have any idea where they might've gone?"

Neither child spoke.

Antonio pushed an agitated breath through his nose. Both small children slipped their skinny arms through the bars of the railing to cling to their father's shoulders, the three pulled close together. Antonio muttered quietly.

"_Padre nuestro, que estas en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre…"_


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark by the time that Arthur pulled into the street-side gas station. He stood by the pump, hand on the nozzle as his gas tank was slowly refilled. A sharp pop startled him. He looked up to watch a police motorcycle ride into the parking lot. It stopped near the door of the diner that ran the gas lines. The officer slid off the seat in a manner that had Arthur wondering about the tightness of the riding leathers over those surprisingly narrow hips. Maybe the local police didn't discriminate . . . ? The nozzle jumped in his hand. Arthur pulled and set the nozzle back into the pump's holder before opening the car door to retrieve his wallet. A tender smile crept over his mouth at the sight of Alfred sleeping in the back seat. Arthur leaned down to rummage through the clutter on the floor for his daypack. He frowned. Leaning further into the car, he pulled out one of his son's many comic books. It had been drawn in, colored and . . . changed.

Captain America was colored in red, white, and blue, tears dripping in tiny blue spots down his cheeks. The Nazi base he was about to enter was recolored all in black and red with a strange looking cross on its peak, birds and flames encircling the structure. The next several pages were all edited in the same manner: Captain America surrounded by the leering, evil faces of the enemy. Flipping through the book, Arthur's stomach sank lower and lower, roiling in unease.

"Daddy?"

Arthur looked down at Alfred. "You awake, boy?"

Alfred yawned and sat up, "Long drive . . ."

"Can I ask you something?" He knelt on the edge of the car's door seam. "Why did you change the pictures in your book?" Arthur tilted the book towards the boy so he could see.

Alfred's expression turned from cute, sleepy little angel to distraught, horrified child. "I-I didn't . . . ! Daddy?"

Arthur frowned: "You don't remember."

Alfred looked up, whimpering, "No." He looked down at the book, chubby fingers trembling as he touched the paper. "I don't like that, Daddy! Who did that? Daddy, who did that?" Alfred began to cry, his wails of distress loud enough to attract the attention of the young officer who had been about to mount his bike again.

Arthur pulled himself into the car, wrapping his arms around his little boy. "It's okay, luvvy. Daddy's here. It's alright. It's alright; Daddy's here." He tugged his fingers through the messy hair of his little boy, rocking him in an attempt at security and comfort. He held Alfred close until he had settled enough to breathe evenly. "Can you wait in the car for me?"

". . . Can I sit up front?"

Arthur gave the child a gentle squeeze: "Of course, you can sit up front."

Alfred sniffled and clambered into the front passenger seat as the officer began making his way over to the jeep.

Arthur closed the car door and hurried into the diner. He strode to the register of the diner, looking a little worse for wear. The ash blonde at the register watched him approach, continuing to pick at her teeth with the pocketknife poised between her delicate fingers. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, vaguely disgusted. He pulled a check card out of his wallet and handed it to the girl. "I want to pay for the gas. Pump two."

The girl swiped the card through the register's receptor, tonguing the tip of her knife.

"Um . . . I was also wondering if you knew how to get to Silent Hill," Arthur continued. The girl stopped in her motions and narrowed her eyes. "I keep looking for a turn off, but I haven't seen it on any signs as of yet."

"Why do you wanna go there?" the girl asked, her gaze full of scrutiny as she handed back the card.

Arthur floundered a moment, "I've read about it. I wanted to see the place."

The girl nodded, disbelief evident on her face. "Road don't go through no more." Both looked down at the register as it made a grating noise. The girl frowned, "Your card's been declined." She handed the receipt to Arthur who looked down at the paper with a furrowed brow.

Outside, Alfred looked up as a shadow fell over him. "Hey," the officer said, leaning on the door of the jeep. "Is, like, everything okay?"

Alfred gulped and stared straight into the stylish, dark sunglasses of the officer: "Don't talk to strangers." He rolled up the window.

The officer smiled as he patted the support bar. "'Atta boy."

Arthur scrounged up enough cash to cover his gas bill. As he turned, his cell phone rang again. He pulled it out. Upon reading the number, he stormed out of the diner. He answered the call: "How'd you cut the card?"

Antonio sighed as Arthur berated him over the phone. "Look, Antonio, it's not going to stop me."

"Arthur, I'm just trying to help. Alfred doesn't need to go to this place-he needs medicine and good care-"

"The medicine doesn't work!" Arthur seethed into the mouthpiece. "I'm going there, Antonio. This is going to make him better, I know it."

Antonio sighed, "Arthur-"

"I have to go."

Antonio stared down at the phone in hand as the sound of the cut line blared through the speaker.

"Is, like, everything okay, sir?"

Arthur looked up. He put his phone in his pants pocket as he skirted around the police officer. He did his best to have his voice come out mellow, but the, "Yeah, we're fine," sounded strained to his own ears.

He opened the driver's door of the jeep. The officer was still watching. "We're fine," Arthur said, tone sharp.

He shut the door, buckled himself in, and pulled out of the gas station, pointedly ignoring the officer scribbling in his notebook in the rearview mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur had something soft playing over the radio. The agitation he felt from dealing with Antonio still had his shoulders set and tense. Even his jaw was tight, and his teeth were grinding. At least the music had calmed Alfred enough to put the boy to sleep.

He glanced over at the child and sighed. Arthur knew there was really no reason for his nervousness. Alfred was sleeping soundly, Silent Hill was near, and soon there would be answers to why his son was sick. Arthur was positive things would be alright - that things would be normal for himself and his precious little boy.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant wail of a siren. He lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror and his temples started to throb. The police bike from the gas station was coming up on his tail. There had not been any other vehicles for miles. Arthur prayed the motorcycle was going to pass.

It stayed close behind the jeep. The siren was for him.

Arthur pulled over and put the machine into neutral, his foot stamped on the break.

"Are we there, Dad?"

He looked over to see Alfred shifting about to sit up in the passenger seat. The child made a face as he moved his stiff muscles.

"No, not yet," Arthur huffed. He resumed watching the police bike. The officer slid out of the seat, pulling a flashlight from one of the bike's saddle bags. Slowly, he approached the car.

It was at that moment Arthur realized what was visible in the light of his headlamps. The sign was dirty, but underneath the dust Arthur could clearly see the white letters reading "Silent Hill 500 feet," and an arrow signaling an upcoming left.

Arthur glanced into the mirror to see the officer reading the license plate.

He turned to Alfred: "Make sure your seatbelt is very tight."

Alfred watched, confused, as his father threw the transmission into gear and took off, leaving the patrol officer to scramble back to his bike. Arthur floored it, charging up the off-ramp and into the darkness. The jeep's engine revved hard as it was pushed faster and faster up the steep incline. None of the street lamps were lit. The only lights were those of the jeep's headlights, and the trees seemed to lean out to grasp for the hurtling machine. The green and black began to turn variants of blue and red. Arthur's gaze flicked to the mirror to see the police bike gaining, siren blaring and lights flashing, the hefty motorcycle bearing down on the jeep as the pair raced into the wilds off the highway.

Higher and higher they climbed, pushing their machines. Arthur's heart raced. His panic threatened to take the wheel. This was madness - what was he thinking?

The radio squalled and shrieked the tuning picking up horrible electro-disturbance and white noise. Alfred screamed, clapping his hands over his ears.

"It's okay!" Arthur shouted. "It's just the radio!" He slammed a hand to the console, desperately trying to shut it off. Every channel seemed to be the same, the frequencies all jammed with that horrible sound.

The jeep lurched suddenly and a metallic crash made Arthur jump. He looked at Alfred, the boy continuing to scream as they drove through a chain link onto a bridge.

Alfred's eyes opened and his voice curdled Arthur's blood: "DADDY!"

Arthur turned to the road, eyes locking onto the form of a small, blond boy, standing in the middle of the bridge. Arthur jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. The tires shrieked in protest as the vehicle spun. The jeep ploughed into a pylon. Arthur's head snapped forward, his temple forced to the rim of the driving column, and he knew no more.


End file.
